The Window. (Open)

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His skills? You mean his hearing, touch, and smell? How good could they be in this world? In the world he grew up in the blind were as useful as a lame horse, just glue. But this world was different, perhaps there was something he could do. He had been thinking about how he made a living recently. How strange, the quickness of life now. It had been so slow not that long ago. Perhaps a change in speed did mean a change of life-style. He’d have to work on that somehow. She sounded like she enjoyed her job.

“Perhaps I can. Perhaps you know someone that could teach me someday? When I’m not working I’m here, or I’m there, trying to find a territory to call my own. I never keep mine long though. Try and find more of us. It’s a boring life really.” He might be blind, but he was still young in wolf-terms. He liked things that kept his mind going.

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A game? He never thought of that before, making something you’re doing into a game. It kept things interesting, kept them moving and thinking. He had been sitting too long without anything to do. That wasn’t like him. He was a farm boy, up with the sun. To have been sitting for a hundred years and doing nothing didn’t sound right. More things to give thought to. But she did have a point; his senses were sharp. That’s what made him come to the window, made him a good pickpocket. He could find someone, work with someone for a while… he’d look into it another time. Not now, obviously, but later, maybe in a night or two. He’d have to give it some thought.

“Yes, territory. I don’t have a pack, though heaven knows it would be interesting to find one. No, there are some lone wolves in the area, and almost all of them have their own neighborhoods that they live and hunt in. They chase me off and such like. I hate fighting.”

That’s why he often had to sleep in a different part of town every night. He Colin rarely got to spend two nights in the same place. But he’d find his own someday.

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